The Grimmerie
by Wiztine
Summary: It had been removed from my world for safety by a wizard more capable than I, says the Wizard. The story of the Grimmerie, now a threeway crossover, but completely Maguirecannon, NOT AU. Is to Wicked as Wicked is to Wizard of Oz. Kind of. Bookverse
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Yay, I'm acheiving my goal for winter break! Wicked is Maguire's, Borrowing is Pratchett's. Beginning quote is from Wicked. Can anyone guess who the figure is?

"… an ancient manuscript of magic, generated in a world far away from this one. It was long thought to be merely legendary, or else destroyed in the dark onslaughts of the northern invaders. It had been removed from our world for safety by a wizard more capable than I." (pg 52)

A dark, hooded figure moved through the trees. Branches could be seen grasping at his cloak and then springing back, but not a sound was heard. It was a moonless night, but not cloudy, and starlight illuminated the figure's path.

Quite suddenly, the figure came to a stop. He was at the edge of the wood, which had remained as dense and tangled as the middle had been. In front of him was a vast lake, the opposite bank of which could not be seen. The sudden void in front of him cleaved the way for starlight to reveal his face.

It was old, was the first impression. Wrinkles and deep creases furrowed their way across it, deliberate as the furrows made by a plough. They cast eerie shadows, disturbing depth perception, even in light retaining the shroud of mystery. Except for on the nose. The nose had no wrinkles, though the skin hung off of it in a tired, wary sort of way. It was long and crooked at the end, shoving into prominence a single brown wart on the left side of the tip. His left, that is, an onlooker's right.

In comparison to the wart on his nose, the figure's eyes were set quite far back in his face. The cowl his them, but they seemed to glint of their own accord, surprising at first because of the low, lazily half-shut eyelids.

For a minute, a long minute, the figure stood there, completely still, in a state similar to that which in other worlds has been called _borrowing_, but is simply a calming, a slowing of the self, to _listen_, and gradually raise awareness in a slightly different path until perfectly in tune with the world. It's a very fragile balance, averaging the individual vibrations of essence with that of the world, but it can be learned, with much patience and practice. The figure was a master of it.

After this minute, the figure began to whisper, strange sounds, neither the common tongue of English, the ancient words of Latin, not the secretive Celtic speech. The sounds were so foreign, a listener would have thought them to be made up, nonsense.

But they were not. Slowly, the waters of the lake before the man began to boil, and then lethargically churn, reluctantly stirring itself like a witch's cauldron. Steam rose, hissing as it met the cool night air. Around and around it gushed, rapidly, picking up speed and force. At last, it achieved a remarkable resemblance to a tornado, or whirlpool, and the figure reached inside his clock, still whispering, though now with such force that he hissed and spit with the waters.

He pulled out a large leather volume with gold lettering on the deep purple cover. Silver edging on the fringes of the pages reflected the pale starlight, into the trees, now into the roaring lake. The figure opened it, and flipped through it quickly, stopping on a page with an unusual picture. There was a man, quite ordinary-looking, standing alone one minute, and then sort of stepping apart from himself the next, creating two identical men. The bearer of this strange book however, looked not at the diagram, but at the silver words accompanying it, with the air of a confident but cautious student checking a fact before an exam.

Satisfied, he closed the book, said a final few words, completing the unbroken stream he had uttered so far, closed his eyes, and imitated the diagram. In the hands of the figure that stepped forth from his body, he placed the book, and as he did so their eyes met and he gave a quick, reassuring nod. The second figure returned the nod, then sprinted to the edge of the swirling vortex and leapt into its very center, disappearing from sight.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's chapter two. I'd hoped to have this and the following chapter be one, but somehow this rambled out of control. Of course, the good news then is that the next is half-written already. I don't know when it'll be up. Again, quote is Maguire's, from Wicked, and I believe all characters in this chapter are in the open domain. Is that what you call it?

"I have seen pages about unleashing the hidden energies of matter. I have seen pages about tampering with the orderly flow of time. I have seen disquisitions about weapons too vile to use, about how to poison water, about how to breed a more docile population. There are diagrams of weapons of torture." -Elphaba Thropp (pg 353)

The first figure stood silent, not in the trance of before, but merely in reflection, leaning on his long staff quietly. The water very quickly stopped turning and cooled, easily slipping back into the glass-like surface, drawing this covering back over itself like a mask.

And still the figure gazed.

Eventually he was rewarded. A figure in white robes appeared from the mists on the surface of the lake. Long golden hair flowed down her back in gentle ripples. When she spoke, her voice was low and steady, not angry, but wearily seeking knowledge, seeking from duty.

"Merlin," she stated, "What have you done here?"

"I've sent it away," he replied. "To another world. Lady, it shall never again trouble us!"

She frowned. "But what of the inhabitants of the other world? We cannot simply foist our problems upon them."

"I have sent with it an assistant. He shall make sure it falls into the right hands."

Still the Lady of the Lake frowned. "It is an evil book, Merlin; it must be destroyed!"

"Do you know what it will take to destroy that book?" he countered. "Mordred put all his knowledge into it, and not only facts and instructions. In its very binding he locked human characteristics, secrecy, cunning, the ability to discern. It can think for itself, and while it cannot completely hide its contents, especially to a trained user, it can usually choose what to reveal, or scramble it. For me to read it, I must invoke my magic."

"All you say makes me more uneasy. Will your guardian stay and watch over it forever? To the end of both worlds?"

Merlin began to pace angrily. "You know as well as I that my assistant will perish there the day that I do here. But what would you have me do? This world has had its share of grief from that book!"

"Let me aid in its protection," she said after a short, tense pause. "Let me send two guardians of my own. Their lives are independent of yours and mine, much longer, and they would do better in another world. Forceful tides here are changing the balance of the races of this world; for too many, it is for the worse."

"They are not human, then, these two to whom you would entrust it?" asked Merlin, his forehead frowning.

"One is a dwarf; the other is part human, part faerie. I assure you, they are quite capable and trustworthy." At the last sentence the Lady drew herself up a little taller and let her voice turn frosty.

Feeling her defenses arise, Merlin forced his brow to smooth and assented. "Very well, send them. But do advise them to stay in the shadows, the background. My assistant has been instructed to trust no one, and to use any means necessary to keep others away from it. There is no way for me to inform him of exceptions now."

"I shall tell them as much. They will be content to control form behind. That way is better. What cannot be identified cannot be overthrown. The unknown have no interfering pomp and circumstance; they can be single-minded and efficient."

"Indeed." He sighed, his hair seeming to show more white and his wrinkles seeming to deepen. "Are we doing the right, meddling in the affairs of an innocent, happy world? To cast such an evil upon them, unknowing, undeserving…"

The Lady's gaze intensified, searching him, trying him. "We…" she murmured. She did not finish the thought, did not say, "I did not; I knew not; 'twas all you," she just let the word hang in the air. A moment before the implication hit Merlin and he opened his mouth with a fiery rebuke, she continued. "Whether or not to sending it was the right decision is of little consequence now. Let us brood over the morals another time, some cold winter night by a warm fire. The deed has been done, and the book will not be returning here; the present question is how to make the best of the situation. You did well in sending a guardian with it; I wish to triple that protection and send two more. Let you go now, and be at peace. I will send them, this very night I will, then we have completed our roles in the journey of the Book of Mordred."

Merlin bowed his head to the Lady. "I shall do as you say; it is time to let go. The rest is up to Fate."

"Farewell, Merlin," she said, inclining her head and dipping into the shadow of a curtsy.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I trust to hit counts that people are actually reading this. I own none of the characters so far, Madame is Maguire's, the other one is obvious. Yes, now it's a three-way cross-over. I have read _Mirror, Mirror_, but don't know how much influence it will have, so far none, I think.

"But you try very hard at life, and so I will tell you this. I am the guardian of the book, and I was brought to this dreadful, forsaken land to watch over the book's history, to keep it from getting back to where it comes from. I am not good, I am not bad; but I am locked here, condemned to a deathless life to guard the book. I don't care what happens to you or anyone else, but I protect the book; that is my charge." – Dwarf (pg 373)

Merlin turned and quickly disappeared into the darkness of the forest, stepping swiftly with the aid of his staff. The Lady also turned back, going as quietly and smoothly across the lake as she had come. The opposite shore, that to which she was headed, was not a shore so much as the entrance to a bog. The Lady went but a little ways in past the tree line, and then stopped and closed her eyes.

For a moment she merely stood, listening hard, falling into the same trace that Merlin had earlier. However, she did not wait for as much energy to build from the attuning, instead sending out two small pulses and then breaking the connection.

First to arrive was a short, gruff man with a full brown beard. Closer inspection revealed him to be a dwarf. Clasped around his ample waist was a leather tool belt with hammer and chisels and small instruments of no name, most iron, and in the best condition. When he spoke, his voice was higher than his appearance suggested, but not absurdly so. It was strong and flexible, compelling and rich.

"My Lady," he said, bowing down and sweeping his arm out in the dwarvish fashion.

"Grumpy," she said, acknowledging him with a tilt of her head. "I have a job for you, and a home. You will not need to hide, I don't think. It is in another world."

The dwarf looked at her steadily through beady black eyes. "Of what sort is the job my Lady has found for her vassal?"

"It is of the utmost importance. You know of the Book of Mordred?" He nodded. "Merlin has sent it into another world, but with insufficient protection. I wish for you, and one other, to follow it. It must stay out of the wrong hands; its damage, if _absolutely_ necessary, must be minimal, contained, hidden."

"A lengthy assignment, it sounds." His voice was unreadable.

"Yes, quite. That is the reason the bearer of the book needs assistance. Another thing: if the bearer should suspect himself or the book to be threatened, he has been told to do whatever he deems necessary to keep it safe and will act accordingly. Your part is not direct, not active; do not cause him any unease. Work from the shadows, work through cause and effect. You have lived long enough to learn much about the ways of man, use that knowledge."

"I understand," said the dwarf. He shifted his weight to his other stout leg. "Is there payment involved?"

The Lady sighed. "Freedom. Your kind will not last much longer here. The other world is accustomed to your kind."

"Good riddance," said a third voice, high and cackling.

Before Grumpy retorted, the Lady spoke. "Madame Blavatsky, how kind of you to join us."

"What is she doing here?" exclaimed Grumpy roughly.

"I could ask the same of you," sneered Madame Blavatsky, a short squat woman wrapped in gaudy shawls of dark red and grey. Her skin had a sickly yellow hue and the texture of old parchment that crinkled like dried glue when she moved.

"Hush, both of you," said the Lady. "You're going together," –she raised a hand to quiet their protests- "You are going together, but you needn't stay together. Just be aware that you are not alone; you have each other. Madame, this is a job requiring-"

"I'm not deaf; I heard you telling him all about it a mile off. Everything, and I completely agree that Grumpy will need me, and so for the good of both worlds, I shall go."

"Oh, for the good of both worlds, my-" started the dwarf.

"Good." The Lady ploughed on, ignoring Madame Blavatsky's over-pompous statement and Grumpy's interjection. "Madame, you have the ability to travel freely between worlds, it will be your responsibility to alert me should anything go wrong. Grumpy, you tell her anything you need to tell me." He scowled, but accepted reason and nodded. The Lady smiled. "Thank you, both of you. All the inhabitants of both worlds are in your debt, including myself. That said, I hope never to hear from or see you again."

One final time she gazed at them, from her very soul. Grumpy stared back at first with a mixture of innocent, impudent stoutness of heart and indignant bravery, but upon meeting the almost motherly sorrow and compassion in her eyes, he, ashamed, lowered his eyes to the ground. At Madame's turn, she regarded the Lady quietly and critically, but also uncharacteristically calmly and humbly. The bond between the three of them at that moment was like that of a Master sending off Apprentices after years of training to carry on the trade and make a name for themselves in the world.

"Off you go," said the Lady quietly, breaking the gaze. She drew herself up, arms towards the heavens, and facing the power she radiated, Madame Blavatsky and Grumpy drew near to each other. In one instant, the Lady sent all the energy towards them, shouting a word easily drowned out by the rush of power, and they disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sooooo... Updates are really slow during school... probably won't change. But we're finally in Oz!**

"…Fairy Queen Lurline on a voyage. She was tired of travel in the air. She stopped and called from the desert sands a font of water hidden deep beneath the earth's dry dunes… The flood, occurring sometime after creation and before the advent of humankind, wasn't a massive piss by Lurline, but the sea of tears wept by the Unnamed God on the god's only visit to Oz. The Unnamed God perceived the sorrow that would overwhelm the land throughout time, and bawled in pain. The whole of Oz was a mile deep in saltwater tides." - Tibbet and Boq (pg 114-115)

A small Fairy dressed all in white gazed longing out at the pouring rain and sighed. Water had been incessantly falling from the skies for a month now, and it was beginning to cause problems.

Firstly, for the people of the Land of Oz, for they were always her first concern, housing problems arose. At the beginning it was just along the banks of the meandering rivers, the Munchkin and Vinkus Rivers, and then a day or two later the Great Gillikin also. The creatures who dwelt too near had migrated inland en masse, which was fine on the grasslands, ordinarily quite sparsely populated, but which caused problems in other places, the Great Gillikin Forest, where current residents, used to competing only amongst themselves, joined forces to drive away the refugees.

That had been early on. Now the fields had spread over nearly all of central and eastern Oz, and revealed only the tops of hill-mountains in the south; islands of trapped creatures quickly running low on food and other necessities. Many had fled north to the higher ground or west to the mountains, but the fact that the combined inhabitants of Oz could not survive on a third of the land could not be ignored.

So they did what those in distress always do, they cried out to their leader.

"Lurline," they said, "help us; we are starving!"

"Please, Queen, stop this torrent; use your magic to stopper the clouds!"

They shouted out their woes to her, prayed to her, and she heard them, as she always had with her fairy-magic, but she was next to powerless, her second problem.

Those unversed in fairy-magic had an annoying tendency to ignore its limitations, seeing only miraculous tricks and assuming the existence of infinite hidden stores, and quite frankly, fairies throughout history had enjoyed the air of supremacy and admiration of this reputation, never bothering to educate the masses and correct it.

"Isn't that convenient," said a rough, gravelly voice from the floor of the cave. "Or is it just the way of mortal beings – to build themselves up and up, as far as they can, regardless of whether or not there's any truth to what people are saying about them? If the truth is inconvenient then ignore it, because it won't help anything, as far as can (or will) be seen, and if it doesn't help then it's not _good_."

Lurline turned from the rain to the source of the voice, a figure wrapped in grays and blacks, crouching at the edge of the cave entrance.

"Hush, Kumbricia, _you're_ not _helping_. And bear in mind that it is the goal being helped, not the helping, that defines goodness."

"Yes, my Lady," said Kumbricia submissively.

Lurline watched her contemplatively, temporarily distracted from the land's troubles. Kumbricia had found Lurline and her retinue nearly a year ago, and had begged to be taken on as Lurline's student. The Fairy Queen had agreed, initially from surprise that a human had been able to find them in the mists surrounding Mount Runcible, and later from a sense that Kumbricia would, no matter what, have the urge, the compulsion, to probe the higher mysteries of Oz, and that it would be better for Lurline to be there to guide her in a favorable direction.

So far though, Lurline wasn't sure how much of an impact she was having on the girl. She followed Lurline everywhere, like a shadow, but rarely spoke unless the two were alone. When she did speak, it was of abstract concepts, right and wrong, goodness, justice, making Lurline have to concentrate to stay with her at times. Some of the girl's ideas and conclusions struck a dissonant chord with Lurline, and the Fairy wondered from whence she had come and what she had experienced to form her notions, for many of the seemed to contrast ideals with a grim, pessimistic worldview.

A tremendous drum roll of thunder made them both start. Kumbricia stumbled upright and they stood together, staring wide-eyed at the forces of nature displayed raw before them. In the distance, smoke could be seen, rising from a burning tree. The air was filled with tension, even as so many forces released their energy. Kumbricia spoke, and Lurline could only nod in silence at her words.

"Something bad is happening in Oz."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: It's been a while. But during the school year it will always be. I don't own Wicked, and thus don't own the beginning quote, same with all the others. Enjoy, those of you that have made it this far.**

"… a gaggle of them, tree elves… but if possible they are more moronic than the fair citizens of Rush Margins… The idea is repulsive. Elves giggle at everything, do you know that? One of the falls out of an oak and smashes his skull like a rotten turnip, and they gather and giggle and then forget about him. It's insulting of you even to bring it up." – Melena (pg 37)

The first thing they felt was heat, burning, searing, right at their backs. Then smoke engulfed them, and they stumbled forward, choking and sputtering, clinging to each other for guidance.

It wasn't long before they felt water lapping at their feet, and they realized that the heat had faded and the smoke had thinned. After a moment of awkwardness, they released their holds and turned away from each other. Grumpy made a small "Harrumph!" and then crouched down and started splashing his face with the water, which, as far as they could see, was part of a flood in the middle of a forest. They had arrived near the top of a hill and made their way down, until stopped by the water.

"So much water…" murmured Madame Blavatsky. She had paused in wiping her sooty face with one of her shawls and was staring at their surroundings. Pelting raindrops made vicious looking brown streaks scar her skin. Her eyes, already large, looked even bigger through a sheet of liquid. After gazing at the water for a moment, they flickered up to the path from whence they had come, towards the burning tree. Making up her mind quickly, she climbed back up to the edge of the fire.

Already the flames were dying, overcome by rain. One large fallen tree half-way up was soaked on the outside but burned red-hot on the inside. Steam rose from the junction, hissing. Madame Blavatsky stopped beside it, peering intensely into its heart. Without warning, there was a sharp crack and a long, thin, charred branch crashed to the ground at her feet, still burning brightly at one end. She picked it up calmly and continued her climb upwards, ignoring Grumpy, who had come puffing up beside her. He heaved a heavy sigh when he saw she meant to continue the ascension, before following with an expression of blustering indignation.

The mountain seemed to go on forever. The even, dusky blue they had arrived to had quickly faded to pitch black. Grumpy stumbled over and over, a constant stream of threats and curses pouring from his mouth. Only the fear of losing sight of Madame Blavatsky's torch kept him moving. After nearly an hour though, the torch stopped moving.

Madame Blavatsky had paused, suddenly aware of a third presence. She hovered in indecision, reluctant to extinguish her torch but wary of showing herself. A sharp twig snap settled her mind and the light disappeared.

A merry cackle followed, and then a voice called out through the darkness.

"Makes no difference!"

Grumpy froze in mid-step. It was pitch black all around now that the torch had been put out. The newcomers had to be magical Beings. By the pen of Maguire, this was bad. Slowly, he sank into a crouch behind a short bush, holding his breath and crossing his toes. Stubby, calloused fingers settled tightly around a sharp, mid-length knife at his waist.

Not twenty feet away, Madame Blavatsky also crouched, setting her darkened torch by her side. Her hands reached out a short distance into the darkness, the tips of her fingers twitching forward into claws.

"Who's there?" Her voice was harsher, more gravelly, surprising Grumpy, but it had the same surety, the same command.

The infernal cackle pierced the air again. Both Grumpy and Madame Blavatsky tried to place where it was coming from, but it was all around them.

"Show yourself," tried Madame Blavatsky.

"Come with us, come with us away," came a chorus of high, giddy voices. "Trespassers must show themselves to Lady."

Grumpy's heart skipped a beat when he heard the plural. He'd been noticed as well.

"Lady?" asked Madame Blavatsky slowly. She felt as though there was a cloth muffling her thoughts inside her head. "What Lady?"

"You'll find out, come and see."

"Is she a powerful Lady?" she pressed, trying to buy time and clear her head.

"Come and see, come find out."

There was a pause. Damn the fog in her mind, she thought.

"Where is this Lady?"

"Let us take you, follow us."

Then she felt bodies all around her, short bodies, small bodies, taking her hands and pulling her forward. She just had time to snatch up the torch-staff before she was in the middle of an unrelenting sea, flowing around trees up the hill. About thirty feet back, she could see a slightly taller figure also being hurried along, Grumpy.

"What the- get your hands off- no-stop" he sputtered fruitlessly, powerless against the multitude as they moved steadily upward.


End file.
